


If I Had You

by 3HKate



Category: Shefani, The Voice (US) RPF
Genre: AU-Romance, Blake&Daughter-fic, F/M, The Voice Early Seasons AU, Younger Gwen and Blake
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2019-09-28 21:07:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17190431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3HKate/pseuds/3HKate
Summary: For young, hard-working Gwen, life may have been more difficult than you could tell at first glance, but when a chance encounter begins to turn her life upside down, eventually, she will have to let go of everything she has known for the kind of love she had banned even from her dreams.





	1. Chapter 1

  
_* August *_

 

*

"DA-DDYY!?"

Gwen flinches at the high-pitched cry and almost drops an armful of hangers at her feet. She catches herself just in time and positions her load on the nearest work station as she hears another call.

"DAA-DYYY!"

Gwen scrutinizes her surrounding. She couldn't see anyone fitting the sound. An older lady looking for a scarf was slowing making her way to the cashier's, while the voices of teenage girls came out of the dressing rooms, giggling and bantering every so often.

Halfway ready to dismiss her concern, Gwen seizes the momentary lull in customers and zones in on the still unsorted piles of clothes in her section. Their missing back-up order finally got delivered this morning but her new colleague hadn't thought beyond getting rid of the boxes, leaving their contents carelessly strewn about. Gwen smirks at the challenge. Organizing and tagging each outfit for display is exactly her forte, allowing her a premium chance to inspect and internally catalog each piece of clothing and where it would be going. She would be missing this part of her job.

"DA-DDY!! DA-AA-DY!!"

An insistent row of desperate sobs now pierces the area and pulls her out of her mind.

"DADDYY!!!"

Alarmed, Gwen abandons everything and follows the frantic calls through the aisles. She would know every corner of the story in the dark, but they're fully stocked, with new fall styles in full display next to summer sales, so even Gwen needs longer to find where she's going. At last, behind one hidden counter, she finds a small girl, frozen on the spot, teary blue eyes searching around in panic.

Instinctively, Gwen kneels down and softens her tone.

"Hey there. Hey sweetie. Are you okay? Is that you looking for you daddy?"

The girl couldn't be more than four or five years old. She was breathing heavily, tension visible all through her posture.

"It's alright. I'm here to help, okay?"

The girl takes a step backwards and Gwen stills in response before she shifts back as well. Then she tries to put a trusting smile to her voice.

"I'm a stranger, I know. It's really good to be careful."

Quickly thinking on her feet, Gwen points to the rectangular sign attached to the pocket of her blouse.

"You see my tag?"

The girl minimally shifts her head up and down.

"It means I work here. So it's my job to help when someone gets lost, right?"

She is rewarded with another fearful nod.

"My name's Gwen, sweetie." She pauses. "Will you tell me yours?"

The girl regards her with hesitant eyes before she's ready to decide.

"Pearl," finally comes a whisper from her as she hugs her arms around her middle and Gwen cannot help but smile.

"That's beautiful. You're very brave, Pearl. Please let me help find your daddy?"

Her last nod elicits more tears from the girl and Gwen continues patiently, her heart clenching for the young child.

"When you last saw him, was he inside this store, or outside in the mall? Can you remember?"

"In here," Pearl says slowly, rubbing the back of one hand over her eyes.

"Good job. He'll be here looking for you, and we'll find him really quick."

Gwen turns sideways so Pearl could see where she was pointing next.

"See the man in the uniform, over by the help desk? He's like a police officer. We're going to walk over and he'll use the big speakers to say that you're here waiting to be picked up. I'm going to stay with you until your daddy comes to find you, okay? Is that a good plan?"

A hopeful expression briefly washes over Pearl's face.

Slowly, Gwen gets up and offers her hand to the little girl. "Alright sweetie. Let's go. Are you ready?"

To Gwen's surprise, Pearl's small fingers take a strong hold on her hand.

"Ready," she whispers fiercely.

***

They make it less than halfway across the store when an agitated dark-haired man in jeans and a dark shirt hurries towards the security officer with long strides.

"Excuse me, Sir, have you seen a little--.

"DADDY!" Pearl suddenly yells at Gwen's side, drops her hand and sprints towards the man. "DADDY!"

He swirls around to her call, his face colored in desperate relief as he opens his arms to her.

"PEARL!"

She reaches him and falls into his huge embrace faster than Gwen could follow.

"My God, Pearl! There you are!"

"Daddy...," she whimpers as the man cradles her to his chest.

"Thank God, little dove. Jesus, thank God! I couldn't even-."

Pearl slings her arms around her father's neck in a tight hold, trembling and shaking against him. "Daddy...," she cries softly. She's looks even smaller compared to his tall figure.

With a secure hold, the man carries his daughter to the nearest armchairs and carefully eases down with her hiccuping in his arms. He runs his palm over her hair repeatedly, gently tucking shoulder-length brown strands behind her ears. All the while he murmurs to her with a rough twang Gwen hasn't heard often in LA.

"It's alright now. I got you, little dove. S' all good. I love you, baby girl. You're right here with me."

It takes the pair a good fifteen minutes to calm down, and as much as Gwen tries not to invade their privacy, she couldn't help but still witness the rest of their exchange.

"C'mere, let me look at you." The man draws Pearl's small face between his hands, a mixture of love and concern written all over his face. "You alright Ellie-Pearl?"

Pearl nods quietly and snuggles back into his chest. "I just wanted to look at the pretty dresses, and when I turned around, you were gone, daddy."

"You couldn't see me anymore?"

"No..." She shakes her head and hiccups once more before she continues in a small whisper. "It was scary."

"Yeah. Daddy got scared, too. It wasn't your fault, I promise."

"Everything in L.A. is so big. What if we don't like it here?"

"Well, it sure is big." The man sighs and leans back against the seating, rubbing his daughter's back. "We're not gonna give up in our first week, though, are we? It'll just take a little while til we're used to it. We'll find something fun to do every day, like we said we'd try. Hm?"

Pearl nods and hums back. "But you can't loose me again. That's no fun at all."

Her innocent statements hits too close to heart. With a strained tone in his voice the man fervently draws her to his chest.

"Shh, you're right, I won't loose you. God knows I can't!"

At that Pearl leans back and shines the sweetest of grin to his face. "Say it, daddy," she pleads, tears now drying on her cheeks.

Her father beams down in response.

"Say what, pumpkin?"

"You know!" Pearl insists and pokes his chest with her index finger until the dimples in his smile mirror her own.

"You're my everything, little dove."

*

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

*

"What happened after you couldn't see me?"

"I went to look for you, but I only got more lost. Then I called your name really loud, and then a pretty woman found me."

At that her father sits up.

"Someone helped you?"

"Yes. But she's not like a stranger, daddy. She is nice and she works here. It's her job to help," Pearl repeats. "We were gonna call you on the speakers but then I saw you before."

"Really?"

He is struck by instantaneous need to speak to the unknown female whose apparent initiative had ended their nightmare before it could fully begin.

"She's over there, daddy, look." Pearl points behind him. "Her name's Gwen."

*

They approach the security desk with Pearl still hugging her father's neck.

"Excuse me. You're Gwen? You helped out my little girl just now?"

The delicate blonde meets him with a quietly dazzling smile reaching up all the way to velvet brown eyes.

"Yes, that's me. Hi. I'm glad Pearl got you back so quickly."

His breath catches in his throat.

"You have no idea--. I mean, I couldn't even--. I just--. Thank you, I mean. Thank you so much!"

He fumbles through his thoughts and most of it is due to almost loosing Pearl, yet for less than a second it's also this young woman's soft glow that throws him off.

"My absolute pleasure." She pauses, hesitantly. "Are you two okay?"

"We'll be fine."

The southern lilt shows his relief which in turn seems to relax the slight furrow between Gwen's eyes. This wasn't a situation he knew to fill with small talk, though to his surprise, the ensuing silence feels more comforting than awkward.

"I'm Blake, by the way, and you've already met Miss Pearl here. We couldn't be more grateful to your. Truly, you deserve a medal or something. Savin' our day like that."

Blake would have extended his hand if it weren't for the way Pearl still clung to him, yet Gwen didn't seem to mind. She shines back at them as Pearl shyly waves.

"Nice to meet you both. You're more than welcome. I guess this wasn't part of your plans."

"Not at all," Blake counters, shaking his head through a grin. With Gwen freely joining in, he finds the tension behind his temples diminishing, easing him out of endless what-ifs still running through his head.

Soon enough, Pearl whispers into his ear and Blake shifts to the side to run the back of his hand gently over her cheek. "You still up for that, darlin'? You sure?"

Pearl hums with a newly excited twinkle in her eyes. "I'm sure, daddy. And we can ask Gwen, can't we? Cause she works here."

Blake chuckles at his daughter's clever reasoning. "Sounds about right. Can I say what for?"

"Uhu." Pearl confirms before Blake faces back to Gwen.

"So, it's Pearl's first day at her new school next week. We've actually been looking for a special outfit for a while. Any chance you could offer some ideas?"

*

Even more than displaying brand-new garments for sale, Gwen loved and excelled at selecting new outfits for anyone walking into the store. To her bosses' delight her continuous performance had built a sizable base of customers returning monthly, asking specifically for her to be part of their shopping experience. In Gwen they found a dedicated, charming assistant who not only made it a point to remember every purchase but who possessed an innate talent to combine their personal preference with exceedingly flattering selections in color, material and style to fit any requested occasion. They fully trusted that if the store carried a suitable piece of clothing for their need, Gwen would find it. Then, once fitted, she would share her impression in graceful manner, offering accessories, finding substitute picks or outlining tailoring options she would carry out personally that same night. The more difficult a request, the more patient and inventive she became, going to any length to fulfill that trust, even if it meant advising a customer to try a competing store that would carry an article slightly more perfect than her available choices.

Her new task at hand to assist the endearing father-and-daughter pair couldn't be a sweeter way to ensure their day ended the way they had planned. They follow her blindly as she leads the way to the store's children's section and this is where her work begins in earnest. With infectious cheer she invites the duo to get comfortable.

"First, I'd like to ask if you had anything specific in mind? Any colors or details that are important, anything else you've been thinking about?"

"Not really. This isn't exactly my expertise, to be honest."

Blake appears embarrassed, though Gwen doesn't see a reason why he needed to be. She studies them both for a moment, taking in Pearl's short-sleeved camo shirt, ruffled at her waist, draping over black jeggins sticking out of adorable girl-sized cowboys boots. She's almost a mini version of her father, who seems equally comfortable in boots, well-worn blue jeans and a black button-down shirt hanging loosely on his frame. Perhaps they were simply used to doing things a little differently.

"A really pretty dress," Pearl pipes up wishfully.

"Something she loves," Blake adds with decisive expression. "No budget."

In a matter of minutes, Gwen collects a first choice of several dresses to offer her young customer. Some a touch darker in navy and olive to go along with Pearl's cowboy attire and some in decidedly brighter summer tones with puffed short sleeves on one, a row of neat little bows on another.

Pearl spends half an hour twirling in and out of the dressing room, showcasing each garment's fit in-between high giggles and excited looks to the floor-length mirror.

For Gwen this was hardly unusual, the young girl's mirth only made her smile wider. She noticed it did the same for her father and Gwen found she admired his patience.  
  
When it comes down to deciding, neither Blake or Pearl could make a final pick, for each dress had something magical in Pearl's view. Gwen gives the duo some time to weigh their options, and before she could offer her array of helpful criteria, the girl came up with her own.

"Which one would mommy like?"

Her father ponders for a few seconds, then points to the fine, light blue linen dress with tiny creme-colored, polka-dotted buttons and big pockets at the side.

"For school, this one, I think. It makes your eyes shine real pretty, little dove. Mommy would love this on you."

They settle on his pick quickly, and per their request Gwen suggests a pair of creme-colored sandals, a light cardigan and a small purse with rainbow sparkles to complete the outfit.

"There you go, sweetie. A perfect look for a great first day."

All of Pearl shines as she agrees with Gwen and then she whispers something else into Blake's ear, who appears to agree with her before turning to Gwen.

"You get commission for any purchases we make, right?"

"Oh." Gwen is taken aback. "To be honest, we're not supposed to talk about that with customers."

"But you do?"

Blake's dimples pop in a way that makes it incredibly difficult not to reply. Gwen compromises and only nods her positive response.

"Good."

His smile still reaches his eyes.

"We're pretty low on dresses at the moment, and Miss Ellie-Pearl," he rubs his daughter's back, "loves every single one of yours. We'd like them all, please."

*

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year ♥  
> Thank you so much to everyone reading and already interested and commenting on the beginning of this story.

 

*

"Good luck on your first day," Gwen said at last before watching the young girl being carried outside in her father's arms, proudly holding on to the bags that kept her folded dresses in protective paper. When they were almost gone, Pearl turned around and waved for a final time.

Even if they returned, Gwen wouldn't see them again. The happy ending to their encounter was more than she could have hoped for to mark her own last day of the job as extra special. Without surprise, the little girl, so loved and adored by her father, left an imprint on her emotions. She liked meeting families like them, liked watching them with each other, attempting to decipher what made them so normal yet so unique at the same time.

Sometimes she would go on to imagine the rest of their day, impressions flowing freely through her head. Meeting Pearl's mother with kisses and tales of the afternoon before enjoying their home-cooked dinner. Filling the night with board-games, bath time and extra tight snuggles before bed. A loving trio of husband, wife and daughter, living the picture perfect family dream in a white picket-fenced house. She was making things up, but it wouldn't hurt anyone to imagine them being happy, would it?

Before lingering too long, Gwen returns to the piles of clothes left for her to sort. She would be putting in overtime one final night, but she finds she doesn't mind, preferring instead to leave the task well done. Her bosses would welcome her back at any time should her new position not work out. They understood the offer was too good for her not to take it. They would still want her back, they had said so more than once.

At the end of her shift, Gwen finishes two alterations from that morning and hangs them on the rack in their back office to be collected. Then she begins to pack up her remaining belongings. Most of her co-workers had already said their goodbyes. They had brought her a farewell-cake for lunch, asking Gwen to share favorite stories of her customers. She had too many to pick just one, regaling them with one anecdote after another. Now there were only leftovers on the table and she contemplates how edible they would be. She opts to be on the safe side and packs them, just in case.

Once finished, Gwen takes a long look around. For more than four years this store had been a home. Leaving, though on her own free will, remains difficult.

*

By 8pm she's arriving at the eastern LA animal shelter, parking Old Rusty, her trusted van, behind the main building. Lucy, or Luce, as the highly-tattooed, older African-american woman sporting a thick purple braid, favors, greets her in surprise when she enters through the back door.

"Girl, you're still coming by? You could skip a night or two, you know. We knew today might run late for you."

Gwen grins as she sets her bag into a table. "And miss out on getting my cuddles? Not a chance. Where do you want me first?"

She had been volunteering with the shelter for close to two years. Luce, as one of the few full time employees had been her mentor for most of that time. Early on she had accepted Gwen's need to stay busy. To them she was godsend for there was plenty of work no matter the hour.

"We've finished the night feeding. You good to help me clean up? Set up things for the tomorrow?"

"Absolutely."

With practiced moves, Gwen finds her place next to the sink, drying off feeding bowls and assorted items Luce hands over once washed. Evening shifts had the advantage of uninterrupted opportunity to catch up.

"So, you excited for Monday?" the older woman asked.

"Getting there. Crazy nervous, more like. You have no idea."

The strength in Gwen's voice was gone by the end of her admission.

Luce took her time, but eventually she dried her hands and stepped to Gwen's side.

"I'm not gonna make you repeat why this is a damn good thing. You know yourself."

Gwen shifts to a small nod, suddenly fixated on a soapy spot behind the sink, trying to ignore the growing pit in her stomach. She could trust Lucy to be direct to a fault, making her focus on the logic at hand. She had a chance she couldn't refuse. A work-place full of everything she loved. Opportunity to make connections that might lead her exactly where she had dreamed of going. Much better pay on top of that. She wanted all of it. She did. If only leaving her former work wouldn't make her feel sick to her stomach. It was only nerves getting to her.

"I'll finish up here. You go ahead and see Max," Lucy said, deciding for Gwen. "He hasn't had any visits today. You'll be alright, you'll see, honey."

*

The older Beagle recognizes her scent the moment she enters his wing. He swishes from left to right in front of the gate, frantically waving his tail until Gwen manages to unlock his kennel and slip inside.

"Oh hey. Hey, my love. Hey Max," she singsongs in a softened high voice. "I'm excited, too. Yes I am. Guess who missed you so much, sweet boy."

An onlooker wouldn't immediately notice the dog's impairments, but when Gwen kneels down, the milky sheen over his eyes couldn't be missed. Max becomes still the second Gwen's hand settles on his fur, his tail alone continuing to show his enthusiasm. As part of adjusting to a world in which he could no longer see, Max had learned to soak up any physical affection by remaining perfectly still, so as not to drive off his human friends. When he was convinced Gwen wouldn't stop cooing and petting him for a good while, by way of her sitting down and making herself comfortable, he began to nuzzle her cheek softly and followed her signs to relax into her lap.

"Right here. There's a good boy."

She quickly finds his favorite spot right behind his ears, her gentle massage sending him almost to sleep with every minute she continues the loving administration. As a blind dog, nearly eleven years old and with arthritic joints on top of his special needs, Max's chances to be adopted out of the shelter system were slim to none. Facts of world he couldn't know, or care about. Max only loved, instantly giving away his heart to anyone looking after him. Naturally he couldn't understand any of the words the often so optimistic female began to share with him, but he could hear her heavy tone, sense the underlying emotion to her human worries. He scooted closer against her stomach, gently rubbing the top of his head against her, waiting patiently until he could feel her heartbeat slow down.

*

Later that night Gwen sits in bed, palms smoothing over a sketchbook supported on bent legs. Nightfall had brought rare rain, fine drops now forming a rhythmic cascade against her small windows. She stretches her arm towards the switch near her head, the simple flick of her finger enough to illuminate her surroundings through tiny glimmering lights strung from above. Then she resumes her work and observes the sequence of careful pencil strokes gracefully transforming into an outline of a girl's dress, clearly inspired by the one Pearl and her father had chosen that day, though adorned with details and notes to mark it as one of her own designs. She flips backwards and forward through the book, comparing her progress to numerous sketches before, each annotated with thoughts about fabrics and patterns. She still doubted any of them were good enough for a real portfolio.

*

_Sometimes, deep into the night, the dreams catch up to her._

_A wisp-thin, young girl standing in front of a tall school-building._

_A grey, drizzly winter morning sending icy gusts through a street which name she had yet to remember._

_She shivered, blonde hair blowing into her face. She tried to wrap her arms tightly around her middle, her thin, scratchy coat offering little warmth._

_She steels herself._

_Go straight through, they had said. Administration office. Last door on the left to find Ms Balka._

_This wasn't her first time starting on her own. At ten years old, she knew the drill. Too many new schools. Too many first days. Some going okay, given the circumstances. Some, not so much._

_She had learned from each._

_She would put on her best smile. She would be polite and kind to anyone speaking to her, even the boys sneering from last row, the haughty girl destined to find something wrong with her._

_She would pretend they were nice, too. She would listen to all of her new teachers. In time, if she was there long enough, they would learn that she wouldn't cause trouble, that she was quiet and attentive and did her best to work hard, even though she might never earn more than a C._

_Perhaps, if she was really lucky, she might even find someone to talk to and play with during recess._

_For sure, sooner or later they would tell her she needed to leave._

_Still._

_She would put on her best smile._

_*_

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

*

Monday

Universal Studios, Stage 12, The Voice, Wardrobe Department

 

"Follow me. You'll be my shadow today," instructed the no-nonsense brunette who had introduced herself as Claudia mere minutes ago. The fit woman hadn't stood still for a second, her dark ponytail now bobbing energetically as she strides across the hallway without waiting for Gwen.

Gwen tightens the grip on her bag, takes a quick, deep breath and wills the knot above her navel to ease. Then she fastens her steps to catch up as Claudia bombards her with a stream of information. By the time they're halfway up the stairs to another level, there is little else for Gwen to do but try to keep up and take in as much as she could.

"Today we'll do rounds and introductions. Production offices, technical crew, hair and make-up, our department, the whole works. We have you down for pick-up and delivery day after tomorrow so memorize the grounds as quickly as you can. First thing every morning, you'll check in with me. Make extra sure to be on time. If you could come in early, that's even better. You haven't worked for a production before, right? Not in a studio either? Sorry to say, you'll need to jump straight in. You came highly recommended so you'll get your chance. Once you survive the first week, you're hired for the season. Have your eyes and ears everywhere. The faster you learn, the better. Days here are long with little time to hold hands during the show. Our people love their job, that's how we make it work. Behind the scenes, every day is packed."

For the next two hours, Gwen manages to keep her smile at the onset of dozens of new names, faces and corridors. Their round ends up spanning four levels, the last, it turns out, featuring a fully-equipped gym and showers.

"This place is open 24/7. You're free to make use of it whenever you like. No need to ever leave the studio lot," Claudia offers with a kind smirk.

From the small amount of time she had had spent with her new co-worker, Gwen has gotten the impression that the woman was unmistakably focused, but carried a good-natured humor about her.

At last on their way to the wardrobe department, Claudia continues with her initial introduction.

"We break for lunch at 12:15 sharp. This one's mandatory, other breaks are up to you. Daily team meetings are right after at 1:15. That's where you'll see Angela. She's been looking forward to getting you here. We check that everything's on track. Troubleshoot any problems, adjust for changes in scheduling, that sort of thing. There's an outline for every week of production, but it's usually gone by Tuesday night. At that point, stay flexible, be part of the team and always speak up. We need everyone to think outside their role, be pro-active, and help solve potential problems before they're actual ones."

By the end of her lecture, she stops at a double-door entrance.

"Here we are. Welcome to The Voice, Gwen."

*

The wardrobe department opens to wide rooms split into two distinctive areas. First, Claudia shows her to the left which is laid out almost like a regular office. Several desks make up the middle, some with phones, screens and digital workstations, others stacked with paperwork and fabric samples. Man-sized whiteboards cover two walls, each holding a set of schedules and several mood-boards. A few of them were still clear, only the heading ' _contestants_ \- _season 3'_ written on top.

A small desk for Gwen is cramped into a darker corner. It's a tight fit, facing away from the center of the room, but even as Claudia shares her regret about the less than optimal conditions, Gwen finds she couldn't be more elated to be given a space of her own, already set up with a desk lamp, notebooks and pens. She smiles even wider as her gaze falls to the thin name plate marking her right to it as _'Gwen Stefani, Assistant Costume Designer'_. For the first time that morning, Gwen's nerves are calming down.

As she then begins to look closer around, taking in the other desks and plates, an image of her future co-workers slowly forms. There is another senior assistant named Jenny she is likely going to meet soon. In hierarchy above them are at least two junior and senior costume designers each, with Claudia being one of the latter, and finally Angela, their boss and the studio's head of costume design and styling for the show.

Before she can think too long, Claudia walks her beyond a number of half-filled clothing racks to another set of sliding doors.

"These are either open all day or closed, depending on what we're doing."

Once they enter the adjoining area, Gwen is so awestruck she hardly knows where to look first. The entire space is a single, open-room wardrobe filled with every imaginable type of garment.

Three levels of shelves, spanning floor to ceiling, appear first to be sectioned into a female and male side. Within each, organized by size, color or design, they hold everything from shorts, pants, jeans, t-shirts, dress shirts, sweaters and suits to miniskirts, maxi-skirts, short pants, regular dress pants, more jeans, dresses, blouses, assorted tops, vests and blazers. Then head wear, footwear of every style, belts, scarves, jewelry and various other accessories.

For once, Claudia seems to allow Gwen more time to truly absorb everything in front of her. It doesn't take her long to spot some of the dresses she had presented to Angela several months ago. Upon closer inspection, Gwen also realizes that each article is tagged, its essential information copied in print underneath a photo and a bar-code. Next to size, color, designer, clothing line and manufacturer, she can make out an inventory date with a corresponding studio number as well as a clear listing of when and by whom the article was worn last: a personal name, a team name, a season, a production time.

"Some of these belong to the general studio pool, that's where the bar-codes come in. We're more than happy to purchase our own outfits, but some come from other shows, depending on what we're doing. You'll need to familiarize yourself with everything in here. It's what you'll live and breathe for the next five months."

"Oh I will, absolutely," Gwen beams. "What exactly though are the team names for?"

Claudia stares at her. "You really don't know much about this show, do you?"

"I'm sorry. I only saw a few clips Angela pointed me to," Gwen says truthfully with an apologetic expression.

"Right then. We'll fill you in over lunch."

Gwen is almost certain she could detect a hint of frustration in the other woman's voice, but a few seconds later she had to stop wondering. She doesn't know how she didn't see them before, but in the final corner of the room stand four workstations, each equipped with an impeccably-kept, obviously high-end sewing machine. To one side sits another row of shelves, keeping yarns, buttons, borders, fabric samples sorted per pattern and material, as well as box upon box of pins close by, all intended to aid their task. The other side holds a cutting table, tools for measuring, marking and a wide array of fabric scissor safely sorted. In the room that's left, mannequins of different types face the windows, wearing half-finished garments, waiting to be completed.

Entirely mesmerized, Gwen is drawn to the machine closest to her and studies the fine mechanisms in silence. Then she deepens her in-breath and gently rests her palms on the apparatus in a first, sacred caress. "Hello, my beautiful," she whispers in a tone so quiet she thinks only she could hear. Then she closes her eyes and feels the smooth steel warming beneath her skin. For a moment, she completely forgets where she is.

Opening her eyes, Gwen smiles softly. They had a good, durable machine at the store, more than suitable for her work there, yet one that paled massively in comparison to this understated, artful machinery. Before her stood a masterpiece of elegance and craftsmanship, its manufacturing imprint at the bottom nearly invisibly, created with the sole intent to allow an equally able seamstress to create magic in any way she dreamed. Gwen would have given almost anything she owned for a chance to only watch a machine like this in action.

"We don't usually start from scratch, but we do regular costume alterations and repairs pretty much every day." With a distinctly softer tone, Claudia interrupts her. "Angela said you're pretty good on that account?"

Completely dazed, Gwen is only able to nod.

"Wonderful. You'll start out doing the small stuff at first. We'll take it from there."

Claudia laughs with a full wide smile as Gwen stares at her, eyes huge in disbelief about what she just heard.

"Come on, let's make one more stop. You look like you need some air."

This time they take an elevator to the ground and actually leave the hallway to walk across the lot. At another building, Gwen follows her through a set of heavy, black doors and a dark corridor.

"Usually, people come in from the other side," Claudia explains. "This view is much better though. _This here_ is what it's all about." She pushes a pair of curtains aside and motions for Gwen to stand closer.

"Wow!"

"My reaction exactly the first time I saw these. Same with the stage."

Only a few feet away, the four big, red chairs are a lot more intimidating than on a small screen.

*

 


	5. Chapter 5

*

  
Lunch is served buffet-style in a common area on the ground level that is shared by everyone on the show. Cafeteria-style tables and chairs are set up for groups of all sizes while one corner is furnished into a more relaxing zone with armchairs, couches and low coffee tables arranged in an intimate manner.

"No assigned seating, here's where we mingle," Claudia explains. "Let's find a spot and scout the menu."

As if the morning hadn't already presented enough excitement, the buffet itself is another form of paradise Gwen decides with a suddenly growling stomach. Unable to settle anywhere on the overwhelming offer, her eyes keep wandering over the selection of various main and side dishes, each certain to satisfy almost any preference. Steaming soups, sliced bread and colorful salads follow next and lead into an array of pre-washed fruit, snacks and freshly prepared desserts. A choice of assorted warm and cold drinks seem to conclude the day's options, all of which leave Gwen with a sudden tightness in her chest.

After another moment Claudia appears by her side with a set of trays. "So, this is only lunch. Catering sets up between eleven and three, but anytime you're hungry, you're welcome to come down and help yourself, there's good food day and night."

At Gwen's questioning expression she continues. "The studio's very good at making sure we're able to give them our best. Can't tell you how often the new cheesecake saved me last season," she grins knowingly.

Once seated, with Gwen equally focused on her co-worker and a grilled vegetable dish, Claudia begins to teach her the basics of the show: Four musically renowned coaches in red chairs pitching for artists they only hear but don't see to. Slots for twelve hopeful contestants on each team, competing against each other to be the one voice to ultimately out-perform all others. One hundred and twenty hand-picked singers currently in vocal workshops preparing for the Blind Auditions, the show's highly anticipated kick-off to be taped in two weeks, with all of whom waiting to be outfitted. Claudia continues for another half an hour, outlining the upcoming schedule before delving into the department's highlights from previous seasons.

At team meeting Gwen introduces herself to her new colleagues and is warmly greeted by Angela, the woman who had been assisted by Gwen's expertise time and again until one day she decided to offer her a job right on the spot. Mostly Gwen listens as one point after another is brought up. She is now glad Claudia hadn't held back in briefing her all day. By the end of the meeting her job for the following days is exceedingly clear and Gwen is put in charge of the list that holds all artists' names, head shots and the consecutive numbers in which they would be seen by the outfitters.

The rest of the afternoon, thankfully, is less overwhelming but filled with activities Gwen is quickly familiar with. Far from finding it to be grunt work she is more than happy to be sorting accessories and unpacking numerous packages, all belonging to a 3-part-delivery of footwear that will keep her busy for at least half another day.

By 7pm people are starting to say their goodbyes and begin to head home for the night. Gwen had finished with most of the women's shoes and decides she'll start with the men's fresh the next morning.

Instructions still in mind, she returns to the cafeteria in search of dinner. Claudia hadn't been lying and Gwen is hardly better at deciding between the delicious-looking offers still available. She settles on a bowl of quinoa salad with kale and feta cheese, a lemon-balsamic vinaigrette in its own little container to the side. For dessert a cut-up serving of watermelon, accompanied by a mug of hot green tea for the evening. Then on a whim, because she simply can't resist the rare treat, a blueberry-muffin with dark, mini chocolate chips. Describing her selection as divine would still be an understatement and Gwen resolves to treasure each and every meal on the studio for a many days as she was here.

With anticipation the takes her tray back up to her desk, the office that still appears like a dream now empty and ready for Gwen to pursue her nightly plans. When she is done eating and has cleared her things away, she makes sure to wash her hands twice, all the way up to her elbows. Then she enters the wardrobe section, breathing in the scent of a tidy, clean space full of possibilities.

She starts with the first piece of clothing on the bottom left row. A red silk blouse, rounded collar, long sleeves and tiny ruffles at the wrist line. Purchased from a LA boutique, inventory date fourteen months ago, worn last by someone in season 1 on Team Adam. Next in line is a burgundy linen top, sleeve-less, loose cut, three buttons on the chest before tied to secure above the navel. The third item she recognizes instantly as one she had personally selected for Angela, a stunning, floor-length, deep-red dream of a dress, cut beautifully high in the front, a deep vee-shape in the back. Bought at her store eight months ago, worn by a finalist in season 2 on Team Christina.

Gwen continues in this fashion for as long as she can keep her eyes open. Safe in the comfort of night, she does what she always does to learn a new garment. She studies, feels, and traces first the fabric and then its flow along the cut before closing her eyes to sense and commit each detail to her own internal catalog.

By the time she is ready to call it a night, it's 11pm.

***

_As a little girl, she had a stuffed pig named Pinky. A piglet really, named appropriately for his bright, happy color, a choice that made perfect sense in her four-year-old mind. She clung to him even then, unknowing how he would become her most precious possession._

_By the time she was eleven, eyes long grown solemn, Pinky had become a beaten-up version of his former self. Half an ear torn off. The fabric on his tummy worn thin. Some stuffing missing from where the seams had frayed and finally given out. She still loved him fiercely, hiding him away from everyone in the home, protecting him from further harm._

_One day, after class had ended, there was a fight in the hallway. An older boy had said something horrible. He had seen her fish for a half-eaten granola bar that another blonde girl had carelessly thrown into the thrash after taking only one bite._

_She hadn't meant to be seen, she always checked first._

_Some of the other kids laughed, joining in with the boy. She had tried to ignore them and turned to walk away. Only, the boys and girls wouldn't let her. She had tried to stop them once they began pushing her. Her hair got pulled. She remembered falling and feeling something rip and suddenly her knee flared up in searing pain._

_When a teacher came to break off the commotion he didn't believe she hadn't been the cause. She was sent to detention, they would notify her home. How could they possibly know she preferred staying in school as long as no one bothered her. If she weren't so hungry and if her knee would stop throbbing she could even try and do her homework._

_Ms. Seewald, the teacher in charge of detention, took a good long look at her when she entered the classroom. Thankfully, there weren't any other kids that day._

_"Have you been to the nurse?"_

_Gwen shook her head and looked to the floor._

_"I'm fine," she murmured._

_"Did you have lunch?"_

_Once more Gwen shook her head ever so softly and kept her eyes fixed to the washed out pattern at her feet, avoiding the teacher's indecipherable expression._

_"Come here, please. Let me see you leg."_

_This time Ms. Seewald asked without the usual strictness in her tone and after Gwen closed the distance with a few steps, the older woman gently inspected the torn area around her knee. Gwen flinched only once as her fingers grazed its side._

_"I c an mend this for you," she pointed at the wide tear. "You have your gym clothes?"_

_Without following, Gwen nodded._

_"Good. Go and change your pants, then come back and wait here."_

_In the girl's bathroom, gym shorts too big on her, Gwen wished the pangs in her stomach would ease up and drank several hands full of cold water right from the tap. Back in the classroom she stood quietly by the door, arms wrapped around her stomach._

_When Ms. Seewald returned, she balanced a tray in one hand, and held an ice pack in the other._

_"Come sit here," she instructed, pointing to a chair in the front row before setting down her supplies on the next table. Hesitantly Gwen took her place, a tight grip on the damaged jeans._

_"Now this is for your knee."_

_Ms. Seewald handed her the ice pack. Though cold in Gwen's small hand, it sent much needed relief through the swollen skin on her leg._

_"And this is for you."_

_Pulling the cafeteria tray closer, the teacher revealed a plate with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a sliced apple, and a box of chocolate milk._

_Unbelieving, Gwen mustered her, eyes wide open._

_"Go on," the woman insisted with a kind smile. "You'll feel better. You can eat and watch me at the same time."_

_Wordlessly Gwen swerved her gaze from the plate to the woman in front of her until Ms. Seewald stepped away to gather a different sort of supplies, effectively allowing the timid girl to reach for the sandwich without being watched._

_Instruments in hand, without further comments on the meal, the teacher then sat herself next to Gwen and began to explain what she was doing._

_"This is how you thread a needle. You can double the yarn when it's too thin, then guide it through the ear. We'll make a little knot here to keep it in place. See?"_

_She demonstrated the simple action.  
_

_"Now, let me have a look at this rip again." She gestured towards Gwen's jeans._

_"It's not too bad. We'll cut off the frayed bits here that are too irregular, just like this."_

_The small pair of scissors seemed to glide effortlessly along the tear's edges.  
_

_"And now we tuck the remaining fabric inside, like so, and secure everything with pins. Now we're ready to place the first stitch from the inside out."_

_She worked swiftly yet gently, moving the needle through the fabric with practiced ease, noticing how Gwen followed her with keen interest. By the time Gwen had finished her last sip of milk, her pair of jeans was newly intact with only minor evidence of a repair visible._

_Gwen looked at her teacher with wonder, the first smile of the day lightening up her face._

_"Thank you," she whispered._

_"My pleasure."_

_Ms. Seewald studied Gwen once more._

_"Have you ever tried sewing yourself?"_

_Silently, Gwen shook her head._

_"Would you like to?"_

_At Gwen's tentative nod, Ms. Seewald mirrored her smile and directed her to wash her hands while she collected more supplies. They would begin with two pieces of felt, the easiest fabric to handle for inexperienced hands._

_With Gwen completely focused by her side, she then patiently repeated the first steps as Gwen replicated her instructions: picking a yarn to suit the fabric, threading the needle through the ear, forming a knot to secure it. Smoothing the fabric's edges where she wanted to join them, then pinning them into place._

_Slowly the teacher guided Gwen through her first set of stitches, beginning with a very simple technique._

_"You want your pull on the stitch to be just right, you see. Too loose and it'll come apart, too tight and you'll see it crimp. Keep your wrist flowing in and out, nice and easy. That's right, this looks really good."_

_Half an hour passed in which Gwen never once looked up but bit her lip in concentration until she was done. For a few seconds remnants of a proud smile softly washed over her face._

_"Did you know we have a sewing club Tuesdays and Thursdays after school? I think you would enjoy it," Ms. Seewald said. "You've done really nice work on your first attempt."_

_Gwen stiffens. Without getting her hopes up, she then declines, moving her eyes to the floor again. "I don't think my..., uhm, my 'parents', they wouldn't..."_

_"Your foster parents you mean? They wouldn't want to afford it? I can talk to them, if you like. No excuse to keep you from something you're good at."_

_Suddenly all strictness was back in Ms. Seewald's tone, she wasn't one to beat around the bush._

_Vehemently Gwen shook her head, cheeks reddening. "No, thank you. It's better this way."_

_Ms. Seewald regarded her with a distinctive frown._

_"Tell you what, Gwen. You be here next week, right on time. I'll make sure you'll have a good reason to stay longer twice a week."_

_*_

_Three weeks later, at night, with everybody in the home asleep, Gwen locked herself into the bathroom and unpacked Pinky from within an old towel and a plastic bag._

_"Hi, it's me again," she whispered to his dark glassy eyes and pulled him to her chest. "Sorry I couldn't see you for so long. It's not safe here. I'm okay, mostly. But I miss you every day."_

_Gwen stroked the short fur on his head as if to make up for lost time._

_"I have a surprise for you. We've just got to be quiet, and you need to hold still, okay? I'll be really careful."_

_With the piglet situated in her lap, Gwen gingerly layed out her materials, courtesy of Ms. Seewald: a small needle, three feet of red yarn, several squares of pink, leftover fabric from the scrap box, two hands of soft stuffing from an old project, pins and scissors borrowed for as long as she needed._

_In the following hours she worked painstakingly slow, so as not to damage her only friend and not to waste any of the scarce material. She pricked herself every few minutes but barely noticed. Instead she kissed Pinky's fur on every row of new stitches as if to soothe invisible wounds on him._

_"Almost done now," she whispered to him and to herself as she struggled to keep her eyes open._

_With another few knots she had finally finished and inspected her handiwork under the dim bathroom light, when suddenly the heavy cast around her heart released and hot, blinding tears ran down her cheeks._

_Desperately, she cradled the piglet to her skin and buried her face against his body._

_"We're not worthless, Pinky," she cries inaudibly to him."See, we're not. They're wrong. You're all better now. I'll always look after you. We're not worthless!"_

***

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3.  
> Next update will be a little longer due to current work commitments and impending travel plans.


	6. Chapter 6

 

On her second day, Gwen arrives at the parking lot at 5.58 am. The guard gives her a noticable once over as she wishes him a good morning, yet he isn't put off by the early hour. When he begins to learn which show exactly she's working for, he is quick to share how he's been a fan since the first hour and let's her through with a wave.

By the time she arrives at the wardrobe office, steaming coffee in hand, it's 6:12 a.m. Every room is dark.

Members of her team begin to trickle in around 7:15. By that time, Gwen has already made it a point to mentally retrace all locations from her previous day. Equally important, she had reviewed and memorized the show's schedule and details for the upcoming months. From now on she wouldn't be caught uninformed.

Less than two full weeks away, production would begin taping Blind Auditions, or Blinds, as she had learned, after which chosen contestants would move into team rehearsals with their coaches. Then Battles, the continuing round, would take place mid-September, swiftly followed by Knockouts, the last opportunity for coaches to decide which of their singers should advance. Simultaneously, Blinds and Battles would be broadcasted nationwide, effectively creating a timeline to take singers, coaches, and all viewers into the live parts of the show with weekly performances, live voting, and subsequent eliminations lasting from October to mid-December. The final live show would then reveal the one accomplished and celebrated artist voted for by the viewership to have won and be "The Voice" for this particular season, earning themselves a record deal on top of their newly created fanbase and a highly sought-after win for their coach. With only a pause for viewers, production of the following season would resume in January next year and finish at the end of May, leaving only the summer months as a break for studio employees and coaches before repeating the cycle.  
  
With the whole office busy, Gwen spends half of the morning unpacking and organizing the men's part of their footwear delivery. Then Jenny is ready for her and begins to brief her on the actual logistics of outfitting their contestants. Beginning in the afternoon, the wardrobe staff would be forming into two groups, each responsible for sixty artists. before taping they would see auditioning singers twice. Once to combine preliminary brainstormings with trial-and-error-fittings. A second time to finalize each look, including all customisation and alterations. On filming days, the teams would work around the clock to apply finishing touches before sending their singers on stage. Once auditions had finished and chosen contestants had moved to their coach's team, the wardrobe staff would reorganize to meet each team's needs accordingly.     
  
Of the four coaches, Adam Levine and Christina Aguilera are the only two Gwen is familiar with by name, as their music climbs the radio charts everytime they put out a new single. Per Jenny's animated descriptions both are a strong draw for the audience and have been with the show from the very beginning. This season's returning third coach would be Pharell Williams, in music and character a genuine and charming counterpart to the competitive nature of the former two. The fourth coach would be someone Gwen has never heard of, a male country singer they had only just signed on for two seasons. Without knowing anything about him, he remained a wilcard for the team. Perhaps a strategic move, Jenny wondered out loud, likely aiming to attract future artists and viewership from the genre with admittedly very loyal fans. There was a good bit of buzz already about how he'd be working out, though apparently he had been highly recommended once the show officials had begun making contacts in that direction.

In regards to all four, Gwen couldn't imagine even standing in the same room with them, much less being involved in their outfitting. And they wouldn't, Jenny continues, as coaches generally brought in their own people. Christina even insisted on her own hair-and-make-up specialists. As an exception to the rule, their team would only be consulting with the country singer who, as far as Jenny knew, would come in without any outside staff at some point next week.  
  
During lunch Gwen further learns how the show had done well in its first three season. Each had been increasingly successful with the network and targeted viewer group, in turn earning the whole production a sizable increase in budget and publicity that now allows them to begin season four on a whole different level. In general, all non-live parts of the show were being filmed from morning to mid-afternoon, owing to the fact that most coaches had families and negotiated their contracts accordingly. Limited taping hours also included interviews and promotional material, which explained the hours for everyone behind the scenes. The show only worked out through a fine balance of talented singers, invested coaches, and highly-professional, well-prepared production teams.  
  
The afternoon passes quickly as Gwen needs to prove her abilitites under Angela's watchful eyes and attempts her first tasks on the sewing machines. While she completely loses track of time, her results please the older woman and she's granted permission to use to machines on her own.  
  
From Wednesday onward Gwen lives and breathes everything at the studio. Nights prior to each day she takes the lists of artists with her to study their name in peace. Having learned their faces, she would now easily recognize them. Each morning she still comes in early and double-checks her list against the computer's before painstakingly preparing their boards with each new singer's name, number and outfitting note so line-ups were ready before anyone would need them.  
  
By Friday night, Gwen is utterly exhausted. She grabs dinner from the studio cafeteria, uses their showers in the gym, and barely keeps herself awake enough until her head hits the pillow. Without surprise she proceeds to sleep through almost all of Saturday. Sunday she finally makes it back to the shelter where Luce is waiting to be filled in and Max and some of his friends are eager for their playtime and afternoon walks.

On Monday she would be early again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you waiting, yes, with all of the preliminary set-up done, we're now ready to meet Blake again ♥


End file.
